“Do you think I’ll ever have real horses?” His eyelids fight to stay open as he speaks.
“I think you’ll have a whole pasture of horses someday. Painted, Arabian, maybe even some wild.”
“And a big house with a red barn?” His voice is a drowsy murmur.
I brush his hair away from his forehead. “I’d bet you could even have a big truck too. One with the big wheels like you like.”
He nods slowly and drifts off to sleep with a hum in his throat. My sweet little boy. God, I don’t know what I’d dowithout him. Every day is an adventure when you see things through his eyes.
It’s funny. When I first found out I was pregnant, I was terrified that I’d be an awful mom. I worried about everything, like how to make sure he got enough food, how to keep his soft little head safe, how to make sure he felt loved and cared for. The whole thing was overwhelming, and I was convinced I’d be the worst mom in the world.
Now, I feel like this is what I was born to do.
I watch his little chest rise and fall a moment longer, then turn back, pull the chain on the lamp, and head back out into the hallway of our tiny rental. If it were up to me, I’d be raising Jasper out in the woods somewhere. A growing boy needs wide-open spaces to run in. Heck, I’d say every kid does. There’s something about growing up with the dandelions that gets inside a person’s soul, changing their brain chemistry for the better.
“Hey, babe.” Pete stands, blocking the narrow hallway with a smile, and I get the feeling he wants to hook up tonight.
I probably shouldn’t be repulsed at the thought, but this hot/cold thing he does confuses the hell out of me. He’ll be sweet like this until I need anything from him emotionally. Then, we might as well be in a courtroom because he’ll debate like lawyer of the year to avoid real intimacy.
“You’re such a good mom.” He leans in and kisses the top of my head, the scent of mandarin on his shirt. “We’re lucky to have you.”
This is it.He’s being kind. In most relationships, someone in my position would be a jerk for not being thankful, but how do I know this is real when last night he was telling me how I ruin his life?
At this point, I don’t care. It’s been a long day. I had fourteen haircuts after Wade’s and no lunch break. Then, I picked up Jasper, made dinner, cleaned the house, played withhim, put him to bed, and now all I want to do is take a long hot bath and breathe.
“Thank you,” I manage, my throat closing as the words come out. “I think I’m going to take a hot bath.”
“Okay, I’ll sit with you.”
Sit with me?
He’ll sit with me?
“Actually, I was thinking I might just sit alone.” I laugh nervously. “I really need to decompress. I was on my feet all day and I’m not feeling any sort of conversation right now.”
“Sure, sure.” He brushes his hand down over my shoulder and turns away.
For a second, I feel like the biggest jerk alive. Maybe he’s really trying this time. Maybe I’m pushing him away. Maybe it’s true that I’m the ass, and he’s the victim to my irrational bullshit.
“Thank you,” I say, squeezing his hand. “I won’t be long. We can watch that show you like after. I’ll feel better after this refresher.”
He nods slowly, and though I was clear about needing space, he follows me into the bathroom. “I’ll just sit with you for a second. I want to see you naked.”
Maybe it’s the long day I’ve had. Maybe it’s all the mean things he said last night. Maybe it’s the fact that it feels like he wants my body without wanting my heart, I’m not sure, but something snaps inside of me like a bolt of lightning under my skin.
“No! I just told you, I need to be alone for a minute.”
“Jeez, babe!” He rolls his eyes and steps back as though I’m crazy. “Calm down. I’m trying to see you naked.” The way he says it, I almost believe I’m the jerk. I almost believe that the problem is me. That somehow I’m a narcissist prude who isn’t being a team player.
“No,” I snap and turn back toward him, the hall light flickering as I speak. “I just told you I need some space to relax. I’ve had a really long day.”
“You’ve had a long day? You work for your family's shop, Sara. You don’t have to commute to the city every day to play corporate monkey.”
I swallow hard, feeling guilty.Why the hell do I feel guilty?I work hard. I know I work hard. The fact that I don’t commute doesn’t mean I don’t work hard.
“I just need a few minutes to relax. That’s all, okay? Then we’ll watch your show together.”
“Right,” he drags his hand over his jaw, “because everything is about you. When you need to relax, we prioritize your relaxation. When you need to talk about your feelings, we prioritize talking about your feelings. It’s your world, isn’t it, Sara?” His tone rises so roughly that I’m afraid he might wake up Jasper.
